Old Mrs. Song is reborn; get out of here, you scumbag husband and illegitimate child!

Song Xianglan is different.

She was an old woman, half-buried in the ground, who had nothing to fear from those wearing shoes.

Something really went wrong.

She ran back to Qingyang, and those people couldn't do anything about her.

There were four people sitting inside.

Old Li sat in a grand chair. Beside him sat the goatee he had seen that day.

The other two old men sat on stools in the shadows, their triangular eyes fixed on the canvas bag that Song Xianglan was carrying, like thieves.

These people have a terrible reputation in the antique street.

They specialize in shady dealings involving swindling and deception.

Ruthless, but with extensive connections.

Even if they deceive people, they can still get away with it because of their connections.

Reporting the crime to the police usually doesn't help much for those who have been scammed; at most, they'll just lose a little less money.

Counterfeit goods are sold as genuine, and then industry practices are invoked.

"Old lady, you're right on time," Old Li chuckled sarcastically.

Song Xianglan didn't respond, but sat down with an air of authority.

Chen Zui and Xiao Li stood on either side of her, like two guardian deities behind her.

"Did you bring the goods?" a bald old man asked in a hoarse voice from the shadows.

Song Xianglan patted the canvas bag on her lap.

"It's in the bag. Where's the money?"

"Don't you know the rules?" the goatee retorted. "If you don't reveal your true colors and show us the truth, how are we supposed to get paid?"

"Who do you think you are?" Song Xianglan leaned back in her chair, not even lifting her eyelids. "I'm here to do business with Old Man Li. What are you all doing here? This painting isn't for you. If you want to see it, pay up. If you don't have money, get lost."

The three old men's expressions changed simultaneously.

Old Li slowly lifted his eyelids, trying to put some pressure on Song Xianglan. "We are the buyers. They are my partners. If you don't show them to them, the deal can't be done."

"Want to see it?" Song Xianglan held up one finger and waved it. "Sure. They'll get a thousand yuan each for each viewing."

The room was deathly silent.

Old Man Li's eyes widened.

"You old woman, you've come to the King of Hell's palace to extort money? A thousand for one visit? You're too greedy."

Song Xianglan slammed her hand on the table, making the teacups clatter.

"What a big face, it can hold all the mountains and rivers." She retorted sharply, "You must have died a violent death in your past life, with such a big grudge, standing here blatantly lying."

You run this shabby shop, cheating and swindling people; you've done countless unscrupulous things. You're allowed to be a heartless, greedy old man, but can't I, a seasoned beauty, earn money honestly?

Old Li was stunned by the scolding, "You're just being unreasonable..."

"What do you mean, 'you'?" Song Xianglan didn't even have time to catch her breath. "I'm putting this out there today. If you want to see the painting, you have to pay a thousand yuan for it. I also need to see if you lot of losers have the money to buy it. If you don't have the money, then hurry up and close down and sweep the floor, don't delay me from finding the next buyer."

The bald old man took a step forward, panting heavily.

Chen Zui's eyes turned cold, and he stepped forward to block Song Xianglan.

The gesture of his hand reaching towards his waist was extremely obvious.

The atmosphere instantly became tense.

Seeing that things were not going well, the goatee quickly tried to smooth things over.

"Harmony brings wealth, harmony brings wealth." The man with the goatee pulled a wad of ten-yuan notes from his pocket. "This is two thousand yuan. Old lady, let's do it the way it is. Is that alright now?"

Song Xianglan glanced at the money on the table but didn't take it.

"Where's the capital?" she asked.

The other three old men exchanged glances.

Old Li gritted his teeth, turned around, opened the safe in the corner, and pulled out a large leather suitcase.

Pulling the zipper revealed bundles of cash.

The two old men in the shadows reluctantly lifted the urea bag at their feet, which was full of money.

Song Xianglan glanced around and nodded in satisfaction.

"Okay. If you have the capital, then it's easy to talk."

She slowly unzipped the canvas bag.

The four old men craned their necks in unison, their eyes practically popping out of their bags.

Song Xianglan reached in and groped around for a bit.

"Smack."

A gleaming butcher's knife was slammed heavily onto the octagonal table.

A white mark was slashed into the wooden tabletop.

Old Li was so frightened that he jumped back a step, his waist slamming hard against the back of the chair, and he cried out in pain, "Ouch!"

He stared at the broad-backed butcher knife, his face turning deathly pale.

The stress response from the past few days has all kicked in.

Is this old woman a butcher reincarnated?

They would either use a boning knife or a butcher's knife, treating these local bullies like fat pigs waiting to be slaughtered.

"Old lady, what are you doing?" The goatee's voice was hoarse, and his legs were spinning.

Song Xianglan chuckled, her rough fingers stroking the back of the knife.

"Don't be afraid. I've always been timid and afraid of trouble." Song Xianglan grinned. "When you're doing such a big business, you have to give yourself some security."

She stopped smiling.

"I know perfectly well that you old bastards have a terrible reputation outside and you keep a bunch of idle thugs around. I'm just afraid that if you see this painting, you'll get the idea to send your men in and double-cross me."

With a flick of her wrist, Song Xianglan brought the knife tip down heavily on the solid wood table.

"Let me make this clear from the start. If any of you dare to have any evil intentions, I can use this knife to take a couple of them down with me to the underworld. Once we're down there, you'll all have to be my slaves."

With a flick of her wrist, Song Xianglan tucked the broad-backed pig-slaughtering knife back into her waistband.

She freed her hands and slowly pulled out an oil paper package wrapped with red thread from the bottom of the canvas bag.

Open layer by layer.

Inside lay an old scroll painting.

She placed her hand on the reel, raised her eyelids, and cheerfully glanced at the four old men opposite her.

"This is the 'Spring Morning in the Han Palace' painting. The rules are clear: you can only look, not touch. You old geezers, with your hands always picking your asses and licking your tongues, don't you dare dirty my painting."

Old Li's mouth twitched as he was scolded.

That old hag is so infuriating; she just throws the most vulgar and offensive words at them.

But he knew clearly in his heart that as long as the painting was genuine, it was priceless.

To endure a few insults in exchange for a lifetime of wealth.

value.

He gritted his teeth and nodded, which was considered an agreement.

Song Xianglan held both ends of the scroll and slowly pushed it open on the Eight Immortals table.

The slightly yellowed drawing paper was displayed in the dim light.

In the morning mist, the golden palace and yellow flags appeared and disappeared. Outside the half-closed palace gate stood a uniquely shaped Taihu stone. The palace maids in the painting were in various poses: some were sweeping the steps, some were leaning against the railing looking at the pool, and others were feeding the peacocks with food platters.

The scroll continues to unfold. In the middle section, several women sit together playing musical instruments, while others dance to the music. In a corner, a lady holds a pipa, her expression melancholic, possessing a unique charm.

At the end of the scroll, Mao Yanshou is painting a portrait of Wang Zhaojun.

Heavy color meticulous brushwork.

The colors are extremely romantic.

Each character is perfectly captured in both form and spirit; even the corners of their clothes and the strands of their hair exude a captivating charm.

In this painting, there are no supporting characters; every figure is the protagonist of this long scroll.

The two old men hiding in the shadows could no longer sit still.

The two unconsciously pushed forward, their heavy breathing echoing in the quiet room.

The skinny old man stared with envy, completely forgetting the rules, and stretched out his withered hand, trying to touch the texture of the drawing paper.

Song Xianglan was quick-witted and nimble-fingered.

I slapped him.

The skinny old man was startled, and his knuckles smacked the edge of the table.

"Don't touch me. One touch and you're out of five thousand." Song Xianglan stared at him coldly.

The goatee thought to himself that this woman was becoming increasingly demanding. The old woman held a valuable treasure, but she was unaware of the current market value.

We can try to lower the price further. If we can buy the painting at a low price, we can resell it to that Mr. Jin and make enough profit to support their children and grandchildren for the rest of their lives.

Let the old lady gloat for half an hour first.